


Dungeons and Dummies

by jikanet_tanaka



Series: Another World, Another Time [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, Dungeons & Dragons References, Ford and Fidds are in a relationship but it's really not the focus here, Gen, This is dumb and self-indulgent, minor language, plz forgive me, so minor fiddauthor I guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jikanet_tanaka/pseuds/jikanet_tanaka
Summary: Now that he’s returned to Gravity Falls, all Stanford Pines wants is to show his family how to play tabletop RPGs. Nice and simple, as far as wishes go, right?Or: Ford as DM, the rest of the Pines as players. Chaos ensues.Kind of a sequel to a previous story (Another World, Another Time), but can be read without finishing the former.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Wendy Corduroy, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez & Ford Pines
Series: Another World, Another Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107941
Comments: 33
Kudos: 36





	1. Dramatis personae

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic takes place after my other fic (Another World, Another Time), but it can be read on its own. Just so you guys know:  
> • The twins returned to Gravity Falls in the summer of 2013.  
> • McGucket has a granddaughter (her name’s Harper; Weirdmaggedon gave Tate the push needed to propose to his girlfriend Sherry) and he adopted Pacifica, more or less.  
> • The Pines fought a bunch of crazy cultists, while Soos, Wendy, McGucket and Pacifica had to deal with some annoying government agents.  
> • Stan and Ford… kinda went through the emotional wringer. Poor Stan lost an eye :C  
> • Now everyone is reunited in Gravity Falls and ready to have some good ol’ fashioned D&D fun! =D

* ~ Dramatis personae ~ *

Stanford ‘Ford’ Pines, Dungeon Master: Paranormal researcher and ex-dimensional hopper. A perfect example of a High INT, Low WIS kind of person. Still thinks trench coats and turtleneck sweaters are the height of fashion. That’s what happens when you cross the aesthetics of a high school science teacher with those of a sci-fi action hero.

Stanley ‘Stan’ Pines, human fighter/rogue: Ford’s twin brother. A proud con man who’s not as charming as he thinks he is. Lives to mercilessly troll his brother. Has a heart of gold hidden… _somewhere_ , we guess. Tends to adopt children without really meaning to.

Mason ‘Dipper’ Pines, half-elf wizard: Ford and Stan’s great-nephew and Mabel’s twin brother. A squishy, anxious thirteen-year-old who’s more reasonable than the rest of the family put together. Which doesn’t mean a lot, really. Will fight you if you ask for it. He might even win.

Mabel Pines, half-elf bard: Ford and Stan’s great-niece and Dipper’s twin sister. A force of chaos and destruction, wrapped in handmade sweaters all the colours of the rainbow. Is sustained by glitter and corny 80s songs. Wants to pet _all_ the cute critters. _All of them_. 

Jesús ‘Soos’ Ramirez, half-orc cleric: Stan’s ex-employee/kind-of-adopted son. The untoasted marshmallow to Stan’s toasted marshmallow. The nicest person you’ll ever meet. Might be a perfect human being. Who knows? There are folk songs about his great deeds. 

Wendy Corduroy, tiefling barbarian: Stan’s ex-employee/kind-of-adopted daughter. A teen who enjoys being a troublemaker when she’s not lazing around. The coolest person you’ll ever meet. That’s not hyperbole, she spent her childhood training for the Apocalypse.

Fiddleford ‘Fidds’ McGucket, gnome artificer: Ford’s best friend/kind-of boyfriend? (it’s still really unclear). An adorable old bean whose pastimes include playing the banjo and making giant homicidal robots. Or at least, vaguely threatening robots. He’s getting better, you guys.

* * *

The living room bustled in lively chaos as Ford’s family prepared for their first tabletop roleplaying session.

It wasn’t the first time Ford had seen the place in such a state; more often than not, it was the children’s place of predilection whenever they were planning another of their schemes. Still, Ford was heartened to see them so eager to participate in his silly little campaign. He’d expected them to be overwhelmed by the ludicrous number of sheets, graphs and rulebooks scattered all over every available surface. The fact that they hadn’t run away was a testament to their willingness to learn.

Out of his six players, only two had played a role-playing game before. Admittedly, Fidds was a bit rusty, having played his last campaign in the 70s, back when he and Ford were in college. Ford himself needed a bit of an adjustment to understand the rules of this new and supposedly more user-friendly edition. 

Thankfully, Dipper almost knew the content of the playbook by heart. Ford’s nephew seemed all too excited to be the one teaching his uncle, for once. The boy had gained more confidence as of late, but he was still prone to self-deprecation. Anything that could boost his self-esteem a bit more was a step in the right direction, in Ford’s honest opinion.

Dipper was giving the others a last-minute crash course when Ford left the living room, heading to the kitchen to fetch himself some coffee. As he made his way back, precious beverage in hand, Ford stopped by the mirror in the entrance hall. Inspecting his reflection, he took great care to adjust his _—_ as his dearest niece had put it _—_ Dungeon Master’s attire. 

For his birthday back in June, Mabel had given Ford a beautiful handmade sweater bearing a golden twenty-sided die. To complete his ensemble, she had also made him a cape. The garment had quickly become one of his most prized possessions. Ford loved the damned thing so much he had taken to wearing it everywhere, including on grocery runs. 

At first, Stan had refused to be seen in public with him… but that was before Ford had caught him trying to hide shoplifted items in the pockets Mabel had sown on the inside of the cape. It had nearly ended in a fistfight in the middle of the canned soup aisle. They had stopped before any blood could be spilled; after all, they could not risk ruining Mabel’s beautiful creation.

Ford put on the hood of his cape, admiring the result. Perhaps anyone would have found it silly to see a grey-haired fellow looking like an extra in a low-budget fantasy movie, but Ford didn’t rightly care. Puffing out his chest, he entered the living room, coffee mug in hand.

Only Dipper seemed to regard his arrival with some interest. The boy’s sheets were stacked in a little pile by his dice tray, and his pens were neatly lined up, arranged by colour and type. Mabel was not so carefully organized; she was doodling in the margin of her character sheet with crayons, humming a cheerful tune.

Soos was talking to Fiddleford, making animated gestures as he raved about some new ‘a-ni-may’ show, whatever it was. Fidds plucked on his banjo and nodded once in a while, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. As always, Mabel had braided his long white beard to make him look like a ‘Viking Flower Power Warrior’, which was… no, Ford wouldn’t even ask. It was _Mabel_ , there was no other explanation needed.

Both Stan and Wendy were lounging in their chairs, not even deigning to give Ford a glance. Wendy kept fiddling on that horrid portable phone device of hers. Stan was drinking from a can _—_ was it soda? Or beer? He was always careful to cut on his vices whenever the children were present, but sometimes Ford’s brother slipped up and indulged in a sin or two.

Mabel lifted her gaze, finally catching sight of Ford. Her face broke into a wide smile. “Look, everyone! It’s the man of the hour!” She deepened her voice, feigning seriousness as she added, “Here he is, wearing a Mabel Pines original. Please note the craftsmanship and the hours of toil put into this piece, and how it enhances the aura of nerdiness exhibited by the subject.” Her solemn countenance broke, and it was with a grin that she added, “C’mon! Strike a pose, strut your stuff!”

Ford wasn’t sure what she wanted, exactly, but he tilted his head forward and held his hand aloft, as if ready to cast a spell. Stan snorted, and it was evident he was on the verge of laughter. Mabel swatted the back of his head with her stack of papers.

Shaking his head, Ford sat down. “You’re just jealous, Stanley.”

“Pff,” said Stan. “Yeah, right!”

“I think he looks cool! More than usual, even!” Soos said. Then, he stuttered, “N-No offence, Mr. Pines, it’s not that I don’t find you as cool as Dr. Pines, but…”

“S’okay,” said Stan. “‘m used to daggers in the back.”

“Right,” said Ford, observing each of the faces staring back at him. The twins, Fidds and Soos seemed eager and excited… Stan and Wendy, not so much. “So, are you all ready?”

He was met with enthusiastic cheers from the children and Fidds, and a lazy “ _Wooo_ ,” from Stan and Wendy, complete with half-hearted punches in the air.

“Alright,” said Ford. “So here how it starts: the six of you are sharing a meal at the local inn. The place is bustling with activity and—”


	2. The Fighter/Rogue

Ford’s players listened intently as he drew the portrait of a crowded medieval tavern: the raucous laughter of the drunken patrons, the clings and clangs of utensils and mugs, the soft strumming of a bard playing his lute. _So far, so good_ , Ford thought, slightly relieved. Perhaps it had been silly to worry so much. He and his family had fought demons from the Apocalypse and lived to tell the tale; surely, they could play a silly little game without everything going to hell?

Five minutes was all it took for Ford to change his mind.

Everything began, of course, with Stan being—well, Stan being _Stan_.

“The barmaid is coming to your table,” Ford narrated, “carrying your food and drinks. It is standard fare, for the most part, but you are all rather famished. She turns away to leave as you dive into your meals.”

Stan rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “Jus’ a sec, Sixer… the gal, how does she look?”

Ford just _stared_ at Stan, knowing perfectly well the twisted turn his brother’s thoughts had just taken. Stan gazed back, and he has the _gall_ to attempt an innocent look.

“She hobbles a bit,” Ford said, dry as sandpaper, “thanks to a bum leg. You’d say she’s about seventy or so. She opens her mouth, showing rotten, yellowed teeth, and blasting you with the stench of her breath, which stinks of bad ale.”

“Sweet,” Stan said, making finger guns. “Exactly what I was looking for. I’d have felt bad if she was young or pretty. I’m a creep, but not _that_ kind of creep, you know what I’m sayin’?”

“Eww,” Dipper and Mabel said, simultaneously.

“Real classy, Mr. Pines,” Wendy said, not even taking her eyes off her phone.

“She’s also very, _very_ married,” Ford said. 

Stan shrugged. “Might be an unhappy marriage. I could be doing her a favour.”

Maybe if Ford glared hard enough, Stanley would drop the matter. “You, uh, catch a glimpse of her husband tending to the counter,” he said instead. “He’s built like a brick house, bulging muscles and the like. One look, and you feel the inner rage just brimming under that stony facade. It would be idiotic to chase a fight with such a man...”

“Huh,” Stan said. “Smells like a _challenge_ to me. I look at the gal and say, ‘hey there, come here often?’”

And thus began Ford’s nightmare.

As Ford had warned, the woman’s husband stomped over to their table, ready to give Stan a piece of his mind. It ended in an all-out brawl, to the great joy of Wendy, whose barbarian was all too happy to break a few jaws. In order to protect her friend, Mabel decided to cast a spell… only to forget about a little something called ‘area-of-effect’. Her pink-clad, overly friendly bard made half the tavern explode, including the wooden counter and its entire supply of liquor.

When the town guard rushed into the premises, weapons drawn and out, Stan cried out, “Over my dead body, suckers!” before charging at them. The ever-loyal Soos jumped to his aid, completely forgetting that his goody-two shoes cleric would never do such a thing. Fidds hurried to cast a spell, but fumbled his roll; the fire bolt hit a chair, which then promptly burst into flames.

After a severe thrashing, the guards dragged the party away to prison, where they would serve time for the not-so-little crimes of public mayhem, arson and attempted theft of a chicken (Mabel had wanted to ‘save her poor little feathered buddy from the flames’).

To say Dipper was _dismayed_ with this turn of events would be putting it mildly (“We haven’t even started the main quest!” he kept moaning, hiding his face into his hands). Mabel tried to sweet-talk the guards, saying that they _had_ to get out, because they were _heroes_ invested with a _divine mission_ (Ford was not sure where she’d gotten such an impression). Soos wondered if that meant he now had a criminal record (“Does that mean I hafta get prison tattoos, dudes?”), while Wendy just grinned, saying, “ _Sweet_ , first time in jail.” Finally, Fidds saved everyone’s sorry skins by opening the lock to their cell with one of his little robots.

It was at this moment that Stan rubbed his hands together, saying, “Heheh, off to a good start, are we?”

Those words should have struck Ford with dread. Instead, he only squinted at his brother and said, “Wait, _what?_ ”

Stan cackled in response.

* * *

By all means, Ford should have seen it coming. His brother was a _hero_ , one of the kindest, bravest men Ford knew—but he was also the man who couldn’t be left alone in a pharmacy unless you wanted him to smuggle ten tubes of dental paste inside his coat. He was the kind of idiot who would grin and _laugh_ at first sign of a real tavern brawl. He conned suckers and sweet-talked his way out of trouble on a daily basis; of course in a fabricated simulation he would continue to do the same.

The only thing that could stop him—Ford’s only _chance_ to safeguard his sanity—was the immutable law of the dice—and even that force seemed to forsake Ford more often than not.

This session had started like many others, with Stan haggling with some townspeople who wanted to hire the party to protect their village from kobold marauders. After scamming the poor villagers out of their hard-earned savings, they had veered off course while searching for the bandit camp, thanks to a fumbled survival check (“I knew I should have played a ranger!” Dipper had said, one eye twitching. “This party’s optimization is a nightmare!”) Instead, they stumbled on a cave, which was, according to Stan, as good a place as any for a kobold lair.

“You enter the cave with halting steps,” Ford narrated to his party. “The cold and the damp seep into your bones, and the only light comes from your torches. You hear the noise of dripping water echoing in the distance. Still, you walk for a good hour without seeing anything but the shadows of the stalagmites around you.”

“Spooky,” Mabel said, grinning. “Wonder if the acoustics of the place are any good?”

“Please don’t sing,” Dipper said, in the tired voice of someone who’d already said that phrase a thousand times before.

“As you go deeper in,” Ford continued, “you notice that the cave grows a bit larger. It’s a bit of a relief, as the six of you were quite cramped before. But wait! Something else catches your eye, something hidden in the gloom surrounding you…”

“A cave bear?” Soos said.

“No, it doesn’t even remotely—”

“Oh, oh!” said Mabel. “Is it a _polar_ bear? Like, it’s wandered far from home, and now he needs our help to find his way back!” Her eyes twinkled. “ _Through song_.”

“No, as I was saying—”

“It’s a bunch of ropers, isn’t it?” Dipper said, face going white. “Oh no, what if it’s a purple worm o-or a Mind Flayer, please tell me it’s not a Mind Flayer, I haven’t prepared the necessary spells to deal with - ”

“Maybe if we’d let Fordsie speak,” Fidds said, “we’d know what it is.”

Ford offered him a light bow. “ _Thank you_ , Fiddleford.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a statue, depicting a man mid-scream. It’s also made of solid gold.”

Stan looked like a kid who’d found a way to the cookie jar. “Seriously? _Seriously?!_ ”

“Yes. Behind it, you see what seemed to be an unlit lantern.”

“I use my torch to light it,” said Dipper.

“Now that there is more light,” continued Ford, “you notice that there are other lanterns arranged in a circle. They surround a few strange, unmoving figures. Something about those figures unsettles you, though you cannot tell exactly what...”

The party lit up the rest of the lanterns (save for Stan, who was pondering a way to drag the gold statue out of the cavern). Once they were done, Ford explained that they had arrived at a large circular space, one that would have been a dead end if not for a pair of large stone doors. The figures, it turned out, were more gold statues of varying shapes and sizes. Beasts and people alike were forever frozen in expressions of fear and pain. At their feet, various objects made of gold were littered about—weapons, a few vases, even a violin.

“Uh, guys?” Dipper asked. “Did we… did we stumble into a dragon’s hoard?”

“Who cares?!” Stan said, laughing in delight. “C’mon, we gotta find a way to carry all of this outside—”

“While you speak,” Ford interrupted him, “the great doors begin to open, breaking the solemn silence with the great rumble of stone against stone. You see the silhouette of an elven man within. His purple robes are ostentatious, as is the golden, jewel-encrusted necklace hanging from his neck. At the sight of you, the man smiles and says, ‘Well met, travellers, my name is—’ wait, what is his name again?” Ford rummaged through his notes.

“Barry?” Mabel helpfully supplied.

“No, he’s an elven wizard, he can’t be named Barry,” Ford muttered. “Ah! There it is!” He cleared his throat, adopting a highbrow accent. “‘You may call me Jaroel, once the court mage of—”

“Magic Barry, then?” Stan interrupted. “Since he’s a wizard ‘n all.”

“Fine by me!” said Soos, while Wendy shrugged. Mabel gave Stan the thumbs’ up. Dipper only sighed before jamming his hat tighter on his head.

Ford cleared his throat again, throwing a peeved glance at Stan. The latter nonchalantly inspected his nails. “ _As I was saying_ , the man announces that he once used to be a court mage, but that circumstances forced him away from civilization.”

“Circumstances?” Dipper frowned. “What circumstances?”

“‘Well,’ he says, ‘it’s a tragic tale, truly—’”

“Yeah, so,” Stan said, interrupting Ford. “I walk up to the guy and say, ‘Hey! Hand us over that necklace and we’ll be on our way, no questions asked.’ Uh, so gotta do a persuasion roll, right?”

Ford nearly chucked an empty can of soda at his head. Instead, he clasped his hands together and said icily, “Oh, yes. Do try to persuade him.”

“Oh, hey, whaddya know… a natural twenty!”

“What?!” Ford checked his brother’s tray. It was indeed a twenty. The damned piece of plastic seemed to be openly taunting him.

“So… does he give me what I asked or not? I ain’t gettin’ younger here.”

“He laughs before throwing the necklace in your face,” Ford said. He wondered if Stan was shrewd enough to probe the wizard’s intent through an insight check.

“Heh,” Stan said instead. “What a dumbass. I put it on.”

Ford nearly laughed out loud. “You… put it on?”

“Oh, no,” said Dipper.

“Yep. What, is it, like, ‘repeat after your twin’ day?”

“Good,” Ford only responded. “You put it on. You now have a necklace.”

“A gold chain,” Stan specified. “‘Cause necklaces, uh, aren’t ‘xactly manly.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “A gold chain, then. Jaroel seems amused to see it around your neck. ‘A fine evening to you gents and ladies,’ he says, before disappearing in the swish of his cape.”

“Hah! What a sucker!”

Beside Stan, Dipper was rubbing his temples, sighing. Ford met Fidds’ eyes; from his expression, it was evident that he suspected that something was up. It was also clear as day that Fidds found the entire thing hilarious.

Ford mirrored his smile, before turning to his brother. “Oh, what’s this? You feel faint suddenly, and the world spins around you. Stan, you take…” Ford rolled the dice. “Five points of damage.”

“What?! The he— _heck_ ’s going—”

“Also your knife has turned into solid gold.”

Ford’s words were followed by a stunned silence. Everyone stared at Stan, their faces showing varying shades of horror. Stan, however, had the wide-eyed look and grin that tended to prompt alarm sounds in Ford’s mind.

“ _That’s_ why there were so many weird things made of gold in this stupid cave,” Dipper said. “Guy had the Midas touch. And now he’s just dropped this curse into our laps!”

“Nice!” Stan said. “And here I was thinking we were short on money!”

“But Mr. Pines,” said Soos, “the necklace—I mean, the gold chain, it hurt you!”

“Eh.” Stan waved his hand around. “‘s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m tough enough to deal with a stupid cursed neck— _gold chain_.”

The others tried to persuade him to remove the cursed object, to no avail. Ford hid a smirk behind his steepled hands. Stan felt smug _now_ , but how long would that last?

* * *

Three ruined local economies later, Ford was starting to wonder if he’d once again made a grave miscalculation. 

The party’s net worth now totalled in the tens of thousands of GP. Most of Stan’s fortune had been made by selling articles of clothing he’d inadvertently turned to gold (he’d gone through an alarming number of gloves, for one). Still, as long as Mabel or Soos could heal him, Stan simply refused to remove his cursed necklace.

The advancement of the main quest had grinded to a halt. Ford was seriously considering having his villain destroy the world out of spite while the party idled from town to town, selling the fruits of Stan’s so-called ‘labour’. Still, that wouldn’t have been fair for the five other players who _didn’t_ seem determined to push Ford’s patience to its limit, would it?

So Ford instead grit his teeth, waiting for the perfect moment to teach his brother the truly life-changing lesson that _actions had consequences_.

Tonight, Ford’s players were travelling through a forest, hoping to reach a bigger town—and thus, a bigger _market_ —somewhere near the coast. Along the way, bandits sprang an ambush on the party. Between Dipper’s spells, Soos’ hammer and Wendy’s axe, the ruffians stood no chance. Still, one of them managed a lucky hit with his crossbow, hitting Stan in the shoulder. In retaliation, Mabel unleashed a slew of insults (“Your choice in career is _whack_! Your mother would cry _all the tears_ if she knew!”), knocking the man out with one of her bardic cantrips.

“Stan, you took…” Ford rolled his dice. “Five points of piercing damage.”

“Aw, sh— _nuts_ ,” said Stan. “I move to remove the bolt.”

“As your hand wraps around the bolt, you feel a tingling in your arm. Your vision blurs for a moment, and pain—cold, piercing, but now _familiar_ — shoots through your body.” Ford looked at Stan over his Dungeon Master’s screen. “You manage to remove the bolt, but you take fourteen points of additional damage. The bolt in your hand has also turned to gold.”

“Seriously? What a pain… that’s nearly all of my health gone in one swoop...” Stan smirked. “At least it’s for a good cause, huh?”

“I move to heal him!” said Mabel. “So, let’s see… I manage to heal eight points of damage!”

“I’ll heal the rest!” said Soos. “I’ve got ten on my roll.”

“Actually,” Ford said, “the two of you only manage to heal the wound caused by the crossbow bolt. Stanley, you still have those fourteen points of damage brought about by the curse.”

Stan’s dumb grin froze. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The pain you feel... it’s not been diffused by your companions’ healing spells. It’s still there, _gnawing at your bones_ —”

“Okay, okay,” Stan said. “I’ve got more than half my health gone, what do I do?”

Ford gave him an expression worn by Dungeons Masters everywhere—the sadistic grin used to denote that _this was only the beginning_. “I don’t know, Stanley. What should you do, indeed…”

“We should remove the necklace,” Dipper said. “I bet the curse is starting to grow.”

Stan let out a bark of laughter. “C’mon, kiddo, you hafta live on the edge to make it big, y’know? I’ll be fine. I always manage to find my way outta trouble.”

“Ugh.” Wendy rolled her eyes. “I rip it off his stupid neck.”

“What?! You little—”

“You tug on the necklace,” Ford told Wendy, “as hard as you can. Despite the formidable strength at your disposal, nothing happens. It simply won’t budge.”

“Huh. It’s just stuck there?”

Stan leaned back into his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “Well, whaddya know?”

“Yes. Whatever force is keeping it around Stan’s neck, well… it surely has a supernatural edge to it, though you cannot say what it is exactly.”

“Is it evil?” Soos said. “I’ve got, like, holy powers and stuff, maybe I can remove it, right, Mr. Pines?”

Dipper snapped his fingers. “A holy ritual! L-Like a Remove Curse spell, or something. Yes, that would work!”

“You have a hunch that a holy ritual could remove it,” said Ford. “However, are you powerful enough to pull off such a thing? Who’s to say?”

“Let’s go to a city and find a temple,” Dipper said. “I have a bad feeling about that curse…”

“Pff!” Stan ruffled Dipper’s hair, making the boy scowl. “I told you there’s no reason to worry, squirt. C’mon, let’s see if those bandits have anything to loot.”

The bandits, being low-level ruffians, had nothing of interest on their persons, to Stan’s great frustration. The party continued their journey, stopping to set up camp just outside of the forest.

“When you wake up the next morning,” Ford narrated, “the air is crisp and fresh. The sky is pure blue, and you spy a few cottony clouds hanging above your heads. It will be a beautiful day, and all of you feel rejuvenated by your nap under the stars.” Ford’s mouth formed a smirk. “All of you… save for Stanley. You still haven’t healed from the psychic wounds caused by the curse.”

Mabel gasped. “Oh no! Dipper’s right! We gotta find a way to remove your necklace!”

“Gold chain,” Stan corrected with a forced cough. “It’s a gold chain. An’ I don’t see what’s the problem, really. You kids are overreacting. C’mon, let’s go to that town so I can wreck another econo—I mean, sell more of our junk.” 

With decidedly less enthusiasm than before, the party set out, following the main road. Soon, they came upon a bridge, one that crossed a large, raging river.

“You see a large figure in the middle of the stone structure,” Ford said. “A chill goes down your spine as you realize what it is, exactly. It’s a troll, one who seems utterly bored out of his skull. After catching sight of you, the troll says...” He deepened his voice, making Mabel giggle in the process, “‘Travellers want to pass, travellers must pay toll. Or it’s cold bath in the river for you.’”

“A toll?” said Stan. “Yeah, right. Like I’m going to part with my cash after everythin’ I’ve gone through to get it.”

“The troll stomps his way toward you, flinging his club over his shoulder. With a booming laugh, he says, ‘Cold bath it is, good to wash filthy humans!’” Ford paused, looking at each face in turn. “It’s time for a battle. Roll for initiative, everyone.”

To Ford’s great lack of surprise, Stan was first in the order of operation. His twin tended to get the best dice rolls in all of the party, and he was blessed with a suspicious amount of natural twenties. When Ford had commented on Stan’s unusual luck, the latter had just grinned and said, “Heh. What can I say? The universe does love me sometimes.”

“Right,” Ford said, narrowing his eyes at his twin. Stan looked smug; of _course_ he did, the bastard. “What are you going to do, Stanley?”

“Easy,” Stan said. “I put on a big, dumb grin, walk up to the guy… and grab his arm with my bare hands.”

Dipper’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Wait… wait, wait, wait…”

Mabel gasped, putting her hands over her cheeks. “No! Don’t do that!”

“It’s too late,” Ford said, sternly. “Stanley, you see the troll’s skin starts to turn to gold under your fingertips. At the same time, you are hit with the familiar flash of pain, and you feel your body begin to shut down. You do not see it, but the troll is panicking. He tries to wrestle himself from your weakening grip, in an attempt to stop the curse from spreading. He only manages to send you both careening toward the river.”

“No!” cried Soos. “I jump after them to save Mr. Pines!”

Poor Soos, for all of his good intentions, had completely forgotten that his character was clad in heavy armour. In the end, Wendy had to drag them both from the bottom of the river, grumbling all the while.

“Soos, you wake up hacking your lungs out,” Ford said. “Stanley, you… well, Stan doesn’t wake up, actually.”

At first, there was only a heavy silence. Then, as expected, Soos and the twins were lost in a series of panicked babbles. Stan just raised his eyebrows, saying a simple, “ _Huh_.”

“I knew we had to get rid of that stupid necklace, I knew it,” Dipper said, tugging at his hat, “but, of course, you ignored me! _Why does no one ever listen to me?!_ ”

“Calm down, kiddo, calm down!” Stan said. “Let’s think about it before we do somethin’ hasty, huh?”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel said in a huff. “What’s more important, gold or your life?”

Stan burst into laughter. “What, s’that a trick question? Even in real life I’d be considering—”

“Don’t you dare complete that sentence, Stanley Pines,” Ford warned, voice cold as ice.

“Yeah! None of that talk, mister!” Mabel exclaimed, getting out of her chair and jabbing an accusing finger at Stan. “In this house, we love and cherish Stanley Pines!”

Soos jumped out of his seat as well, mimicking Mabel’s motion. “Da— _darn_ straight!”

“Oh, he— _heck_ ,” Stan said, in a deliberately nonchalant tone. “Y’all sound like you’re quoting somethin’ from a bad self-help book…” Still, Ford could see him turning his face away, possibly to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. “I’m, uh, I’m going to the kitchen to make more coffee...”

And he left the table before anyone could place another word. An awkward silence hung over the living room. Eventually, Ford excused himself from the table, following Stan to the kitchen.

His brother was standing near the coffee machine, watching the pot being filled with their drug of choice. Stan’s gaze was a bit blank, showing that he was deep in thought.

“Stan?” Ford prompted.

“Whoa!” Stan startled a little. “Didja have to sneak up on me?”

Ford smiled. “Seems like I’ve managed a good stealth check.”

“Ugh.” Stan removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m starting to understand stupid nerd jokes. I’m _doomed_.”

“What is it that you called me, once? World’s nerdiest old man? You were doomed from the moment you were stuck with me. Thus, you were doomed from the beginning.”

Stan muttered a four-letter word he never said in the presence of the children. “Something’s wrong, Poindexter? I know how you and Guck take your coffee. Ya didn’t need to—” Stan’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, wait, you came here ‘cause you’re _worried_ ‘bout me?”

Ford shrugged. “I guess I’m a little transparent.”

“Sixer, it’s just a dumb little game,” Stan said with a laugh. “I don’t care if my guy dies ‘cause he’s a moron. If anything, it makes things funnier!”

“The kids didn’t see it that way,” Ford said, sombrely.

“Oh.” Stan grimaced. “ _Oh_. Yeesh…”

“Yes,” said Ford. “Yeesh.”

“Aw, sh— _shucks_.” Stan scratched the back of his head, all of his smug posturing gone. “Didn’t realize they would take it that way. So, what should we do?”

“I’ll find a way for your character to survive and make it work. _Somehow_.”

“And I’ll try, uh, to be less of a dumbass going forward, I guess...”

“You’ll try to be _less_ of a dumbass?” Ford quirked an eyebrow. “Why not allow me some dignity and stop completely?”

Stan grinned. “C’mon. It’s just too fun messing with ya. You can’t take that away from me, you just can’t.”

Ford sighed the long-suffering sigh known to everyone who had been born with a sibling. “ _Right_. Should we head back, then?”

“Yep.” Stan chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh man, Soos tried to _swear_. That kid, I tell you… he’s convinced his grandma is going to spring out of nowhere to wag her finger at him if he ever says a bad word.”

“I’m glad he’s immune to your influence on that level, at least.”

Stan laughed out loud as they entered the living room. The twins’ expression of worry gave way to relief as they saw the grin on Stan’s face.

Stan put a mug of coffee in front of Fidds. “There you go, Guck. Cream and sugar, jus’ the way you like.”

“Why, thank ya kindly, Stansie.”

Ford sat down with his own cup. “So, where were we?”

Mabel jabbed an accusing finger toward Stan. “ _He_ was being stubborn and annoying!”

“Who, me?” Stan mussed up her hair. “Being stubborn and annoying is what I do best, pumpkin!” His stupid grin grew into something sweeter as he added, “But, yeah, maybe I need to take it down a notch. Let’s get rid of that stupid necklace. Y’know, before I start to devalue the value of gold too much.”

Dipper sighed. “ _Finally_.” Meanwhile, his sister was rolling her eyes in a good-natured manner. Still, she was smiling. Clearly, all was forgiven.

“I use my last healing spell on him!” Soos said. His lower lip wobbled a little as he added, “Does he, uh, does he wake up?”

“He does, actually,” said Ford. “With only one hit point to his name. Stan, you feel like a stiff breeze could finish you off.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright!” Mabel said. “Time for a hug pile! C’mon, all together now!”

Stan held up his hands. “Hey, wait—”

“Stan, you find yourself swarmed by your companions.” Ford paused. “They’re, uh, a bit heavy, however, and you start to choke under their weight…”

“Hey!” Stan croaked. “A little space, here? I haven’t survived all of this crap only to be killed by my own sidekicks!”

Mabel and Soos laughed. Dipper shot his uncle a look of outrage, muttering something about being no one’s sidekick.

“But, uh,” Stan said, “before we go an’ all… anyone wants to try to drag that troll statue from the bottom of the river?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The cursed necklace incident is based on something that happened to our gnome rogue, who was insufferable about the whole thing. At one point, our party stole a ship, and she spent the whole of the trip sunbathing in a solid gold chaise longue while the rest of us toiled to keep the ship seaworthy. Ah, good times, good times...
> 
> (If you guys have any funny D&D stories, feel free to share them in the comments! I always love reading about the tabletop adventures of other people!)


	3. The Wizard

How long did Ford spend every week on preparing his campaign—devising puzzles, building dangerous encounters, coming up with interesting characters to populate his world? To his embarrassment, it probably counted in the dozens of hours.

Still, it was all worth it, to see the amazement on Dipper’s face at the sight of Ford’s hand-drawn maps or to hear Mabel’s giggles at the silly voices he used for the people they encountered on their journey. Yes, he often spent long hours in the evenings poring over his prepared material, to Stan’s great irritation. But in the end, all that effort would be smartly invested, wouldn’t it? In return, he had a story full of twists and turns, filled with challenges and secrets.

Well, that was what Ford had planned. In practice, things went a little differently.

The party had been exploring an abandoned manor at the behest of their patron, the chancellor of the realm. They had been tasked with retrieving an ancient artefact before it fell into the hands of their enemy, the followers of the Dark Lord (Stan had rolled his eye at the name). For now, Ford’s players had been unlucky in their search.

“You walk from deserted hallway to deserted hallway,” Ford narrated, “finding nothing but cobwebs and motes of dust floating in the air. You come upon many doors—some are shut tight, but others are half open, showing musty rooms filled with broken furniture. What do you do?”

Dipper stopped chewing on his pen for a moment. “They probably had someplace they hid their treasure, a secret room or something.” As always, he tended to deepen his voice whenever he acted in-character. Ford found it amusing, but of course he never told the boy. “Maybe there’s a lever or a switch somewhere…”

“Roll for an investigation check, my boy.”

“I got, uh…” Dipper squinted at his dice. “A thirteen…?”

“I’ll help him!” said Soos. “Oh, wait, I got a five…”

None of Dipper’s fellow players rolled high enough to assist him in his search. Ford shrugged and said, “Despite your efforts, you find nothing in the rooms you search. Almost everything is rotten away, and in some cases, the very floor creaks ominously under your feet, hinting that you should not dwell too long in one place.”

“I guess we should move on, then,” Dipper said. He inspected his notes, tongue sticking out. He frowned as he looked at the map he’d drawn. “The layout of the place doesn’t make any sense. Something’s wrong.”

“Aw, you worry too much,” his sister said. “C’mon, let’s see what’s at the end of this stupid corridor.”

“The six of you make for the door leading out of the hallway,” Ford said. “And you find yourselves… in a familiar place. It’s the library.”

“Wait, what?” Dipper rummaged through his notes. “No, that’s not possible. According to my—” His eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh, oh, oh! The place’s magic. The rooms… they change places!”

Ford hid a smile behind his steepled hands. He hadn’t expected any of his players to realize this so soon. Then again, he shouldn’t have underestimated Dipper’s wits.

“Oh- _kay_ ,” said Wendy. “So, what do we do?”

Dipper inspected his notes. For a moment, all were silent as he muttered to himself, scribbling things and turning his map to check its every angle. Ford waited, not saying a word.

“I think I got it,” Dipper said. “When we turn right, the map makes one turn clockwise. And when we turn left, it turns counterclockwise. So, to go back to the entrance hall, we’d need to…”

It was a testament to the party’s trust in him that no one thought to offer another idea, and they followed his directions without question. Eventually, Ford’s players found themselves back at the entrance hall.

“Alright,” said Dipper. “Now that we’re here, we can finally get our bearings back. We can’t just stumble around the place, we need a plan…”

“As soon as those words escape your mouth, you hear laughter rippling through the hall,” Ford said. “The source of these cackles isn’t visible. Why, it seems to be coming from nowhere and everywhere, all at once.”

Dipper’s eyes widened a little. Meanwhile, Mabel shrugged and said, “That still doesn’t rule out my theory that this mansion belongs to a nice big furry monster who just needs some love, y’all.”

Ford cleared his throat. This character’s voice was going to be murder on his vocal chords, he knew it. “’Welcome, welcome, adventurers,’” he said, in a falsetto. It prompted a snort from Stan, and Mabel gave him a light swat behind the head. “’I have been watching you stumble around my humble abode for many hours, now… it’s not often that I have visitors…’”

“Great,” said Stan. “Can that guy, like, save us some trouble an’ show us his ugly mug? ‘Cause we ain’t got all day.”

“As you noticed before, two great staircases lead to the second floor,” Ford explained. “At the junction of these stairs, a figure appears, quite suddenly. From the cut of the rags floating around a skeletal body, you deduce that it is a woman. Her pale skin is stretched tautly against her cheekbones, and a few wispy grey hairs can still be found on her skull. Deep-set eyes bear down on you, and she grins.”

“Is she a ghost?” Mabel asked.

“She’s not a normal lady, that’s for sure,” said her brother. “Is that a hag? No, that doesn’t make sense, she’s on the material plane, she’s something else…”

“The woman laughs at your fear,” Ford continued. “Then, she says, ‘Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve had people to entertain me! You have come to entertain me, yes?’”

Fidds exchanged a look with Mabel. “Well, Ah’ve got a few tunes that might cheer you up. An’ the young miss is quite the singer—”

“’Sing, you say? Sing? As if that would be enough!’” Ford wheezed a little; perhaps he should have chosen another voice for her. “’No, I have something else in mind!’”

“Ugh, she’s a pain,” said Wendy. “I take out my axe and move—”

“Wait, no!” Dipper cried. “We need to watch out for tr—”

“Too late,” said Ford. “With a cackle, the lady snaps her bony fingers, and the floor gives way under your feet. The six of you fall into a hole, and you take... well, six points of damage, it seems.”

“Great,” said Dipper. “What kind of place is that hole? Can we climb out?”

“It’s very dark, and you don’t see much of your new surroundings. Something cracks under your feet, and the sound… well, you quite recognize what it is. Chills run down your back as you realize just what you're standing on. You’re not the first people she has sent in this pit…”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “No wonder she’s so bored! Maybe she should stop killing the people who visit her, you know?”

“Above your heads,” Ford continued, “you hear her laughter once more. ‘Oh, dearie, they only had to be more, well, _entertaining_. Let’s have some fun, shall we? I’ve always been partial to games of riddles, myself.’”

Fidds looked lost in thought for a moment. “A game of riddles? Didja take that from the _Lord of the Rings_ , Fordsie?”

“No,” answered Dipper, “it’s from the _Hobbit_ , remember? When Bilbo meets—”

Ford cleared his throat again, feeling a blush creeping to his cheeks. “Anyway, she says, more insistently, ‘Three riddles in exchange for your lives! For each, you have ten seconds to answer! Entertain me, or suffer the consequences!’”

“Awright,” said Stan, “ _shoot_. This is gettin' old.”

“Here is her first one,” Ford said. “’I am the beginning of everything, the end of everywhere. I’m the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space. What am I?‘”

“The letter ‘e’?” Dipper said, without skipping a beat.

Ford blinked. He hadn’t expected a response so fast. “Um. Correct. I mean, ‘Correct, dearie!’”

“Ugh,” said Wendy. “You sound like a psycho grandma. That’s not a voice I ever wanted to hear out of an old man’s mouth. Ever.”

Ford nearly glared at her. She didn’t know just how much effort went into those voices, did she? That ungrateful child. “Well, here’s another. ‘I am always hungry and will die if not fed, but whatever I touch will soon turn red. What am I?’”

“Fire?” Again, Dipper’s reply was immediate. He was giving Ford a bit of an unsure look, almost like he was feeling a bit insecure with his answer. “Is it?”

Ford opened his mouth, then closed it as quickly as he could. “Yes, yes, that’s what it is.”

“Nice going, buddy,” Stan said, giving Dipper a playful punch on the shoulder. “Good thing at least one of us is smart, huh?”

Ford felt like he should have been infuriated on the others’ behalf. Still, he was certainly impressed with his nephew’s quick wit. “Alright. You sense a bit of irritation in her voice when she speaks again. ‘Well, now. Here is my last one. What does man love more than life, hate more than death or mortal strife; that which contented men desire; the poor have, the rich require; the miser spends, the spendthrift saves, and all men carry to their graves?”

“Nothing,” said Dipper. “A-At least, that’s what I would say.”

Ford tried to keep his face blank. He’d expected them to fail at least one of the riddles. He’d almost counted on it, in fact. How else would they trigger the boss fight he had prepared? Instead, he forced himself to smile. “’Three out of three!’ the lady says. ‘What an impressive and vigorous young mind you have!’”

“Well, duh, that’s my brother you’re talking about,” Mabel said. “Big brain central, that’s him. That’s why his head is so big. He needs enough space to contain all that grey matter!”

Dipper protested, which prompted his sister to poke him repeatedly while blowing raspberries. Ford glanced at his brother, who shrugged, not even hiding his amusement.

Dipper lightly slapped his sister’s hand away. “Anyway,” he said. “We solved your three riddles, my, um, my lady.”

“Good… I mean,” Ford cleared his throat. “’Good, dear travellers, good!’ And you find yourselves lifted out of the hole.”

“ _Finally_ ,” said Stan. “So, since we played her dumb game, will she let us go? We’ve got treasure to find, y’know.”

“Yes,” Dipper added. “Do we… do we have your leave, my lady?”

“At your words, she loses herself in cackles,” Ford said. “’Oh, you think that, do you?’ she says. And then… something changes. There is a shimmer around her, a sort of haze that distorts her figure. When it is gone, you realize her whole appearance is different. The creature hovering above you is taller, imposing in dark, flowing robes. Their bald head is viscous, and they have long, clawed fingers. But their most striking features are the four tentacles writhing in front of their mouth. A terrible laugh echoes in your minds as you take in your foe’s true form…”

“A mind flayer!” said Dipper. Then, he coughed and repeated, deepening his voice. “I mean, a _mind flayer!_ ”

“Wait, the monster turned into another kind of monster…” Mabel’s brow furrowed. “Because… why, actually, Grunkle Ford?”

“Who cares what it is?” Wendy said. “We gotta fight that jerk even though we totally owned them at their stupid riddle game? _What a pain_.”

“Eh,” said Stan. “Whatever. Let’s get this over it.”

Ford bristled; they just didn’t understand just how much work went into building these encounters. He couldn’t just throw a good battle away, could he? “Well, let’s see how you fare. Roll for initiative, everyone.”

***

One gruesome battle later, the party escaped the mansion by the skin of their teeth, important artefact looted from the Mindflayer’s corpse. The object in question turned out to be a yellow gemstone encrusted into a bracelet. After convincing Stan that they stood to gain more by bringing the jewel back to their patron, the party set out for the capital to get payment for accomplishing their task.

“’Thank you for your speed and discretion’, the chancellor says to you,” Ford told his players, after they managed to get an audience with him in the throne room. “‘Though I am grieved to see you in such sorry states,’ he adds.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Stan said. “There was some ugly, slimy octopus jerk in that mansion. Was a right pain in the— _rear_ , I tell ya.”

“I nearly died!” Soos said, a bit too cheerfully. “Again!”

Ford sent him a concerned glance; Soos’ dice rolls tended to be terrible, almost supernaturally so. The poor child seemed to be struck with a rather horrible case of bad luck. “’Well,’” Ford continued in the character’s deep, smooth voice, “’at least you took the artefact away from this creature. Now, we can keep it from falling into dangerous hands.’”

“From the hands of those Dark Lord followers, you mean?” said Dipper.

Again, Stan and Wendy snickered. Ford glared at them from over his steepled hands.

“’Yes,’ says the chancellor. ‘They’re the biggest threat to the security of the kingdom. We must gather the six Gems of Powers before they do, for the sake of our people.’”

“Six Gems of Power?” Soos said. “Oh, like the Infinity Stones!”

“The what now?” Ford said, a bit bluntly. Did his players think he was stealing plot points from other stories? How preposterous!

“It’s not important,” Dipper said, with a nervous little chuckle. “Please do go on, sir.”

“’Why, yes.’” Ford cleared his throat. “’The six Gems of Power. Capable of rewriting reality, altering time and space—‘”

“So really like the Infinity Stones, then—‘”

“Soos, zip it,” said Wendy. “Or you’ll make him put on his pouty face again.”

“My— _what?_ ”

“Yes!” Mabel said. “You blow your cheeks a little when you’re mad, Grunkle Ford, it’s so funny! You look like an angry owl who’s puffing his feathers!”

Fidds and Stan laughed raucously, while Wendy snorted in amusement. Ford put on his fiercest glare; they laughed even _harder_.

“C’mon, guys, _focus_ ,” Dipper said. “We’re getting off track!”

“ _Thank you_ , my boy. At least one of you has his head screwed on straight.” Ford exhaled through his nose, putting on a calm façade as he slipped in-character again. “’So, what was I saying? Oh, yes, the quest for the gems. Now that you’ve proved yourself trustworthy and capable, I must ask another favour of you.’”

“Oh, wow,” Stan said. “Why am I not surprised?”

“’We must gather the five remaining gems,’” Ford continued, ignoring his brother's rude interruption. “’Bring them back to me, and I will hide them in a secure place, where they will not tempt people to do evil.’”

“Doesn’t the king want to use them to fight against the Dark Lord?” Dipper asked. “They’re dangerous, I get it, but if we want to stop the war, then…”

“’The king doesn’t know about the gems,’ the chancellor answers you. ‘It is as you said, they are simply… too _dangerous_.’”

Dipper frowned. “Wait… he still should know about them, at least.” Then, his eyes widened. “Oh my god… our boss’s a bad guy, isn’t he? _He’s_ trying to gather the gems for nefarious purposes, right?”

Ford stared at his nephew. Four sessions. _Four_. It had been all Dipper had needed to uncover a plot twist Ford had planned for the end of the campaign.

“Our boss can’t be evil, dude,” said Soos. “Bosses aren’t evil. That’s not a thing.”

Ford glanced at Stan. “What lies have you been feeding this poor child?” he muttered to his brother. Stan only shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dipper said, scratching at his head. “I’m right, aren’t I? He’s a bad guy, and he’s been taking advantage of us this whole time! We can't give him the gem!”

He looked at Ford with an earnest and, yes, _proud_ expression. Ford’s smile, however, was so forced it almost hurt. Hours and hours of preparation… would it go down the drain because he was slower on the uptake than his _thirteen-year-old_ nephew? 

Ford blinked stupidly, mind suddenly blank. He’d intended that the chancellor would be a high-ranking archmagus, since he would be one of the party’s final opponents. His players were nowhere high-levelled enough to survive such a fight.

Dipper, in all of his enthusiasm, had just completely derailed the story Ford had spent hours building.

“I, uh,” Ford said. “I need to check on something in my room. Be right back.” And he left his seat, heading out of the living room.

Ford and Stan’s shared room was messy, as always (it drew the eternal ire of Soos’ grandmother, and she tended to act passive-aggressive around the brothers as a result). Ford searched the pile of documents sprawled on his desk, trying to find the journal he used to jot down stray ideas for his campaign. Perhaps he could find something in there to get him out of the tight spot he found himself in…

“Great Uncle Ford?” a voice came from the doorway. Dipper was standing there, eyebrows knitted in a frown. “You okay?”

Ford put down his notebook, giving his nephew a quizzical look. “Of course I am. Why would you think I’m not alright?”

“Oh, um…” Dipper scratched the back of his head. “It’s just… I mean…”

Ford sat on the couch he used to sleep, patting the spot next to him. Dipper seated himself beside him, not meeting Ford’s eyes for some reason.

“Did I ever tell you about the one time I acted as a DM?” the boy blurted out.

“The _one_ time?” Ford said. “What happened?”

Dipper made a face. “Well, it was in my first year in middle school. These other kids had a tabletop gaming club, and, uh, I decided to join, I guess. Everything went well at first, and then… well, I wanted to try my hand at being a DM, you know?”

“Go on,” Ford prompted.

“It was a _disaster_ ,” Dipper said, shaking his head. “There was this new player, he was a friend of one of the guys… and he was such a _pain_. Always did what he wanted, never cared about the rest of the party.” He sighed. “Not long into the game, my players found a magical painting. I tried really hard to make them understand it would help them in their quest and everything, but the guy… he just laughed and blasted it with a spell. ‘Cause he could, I guess.”

Ford drew his mouth into a grim line. For a moment, he entertained the notion of locating that little brat to, well, _give him a piece of his mind_ , so to speak. Stan would probably have used a different expression, but Ford preferred to stay classy.

“So I just blew up at him,” Dipper continued. “He told me I needed to stop railroading everyone, and it just… well, I’d put so much work into preparing that campaign. I guess the others thought I sounded nuts, they just kicked me out of the club.” His grimace deepened. “And, uh, that’s the story of how I lost all the friends I had in school, I guess?”

“Oh,” said Ford. He’d been under the impression that the boy was doing well back in Piedmont. “I thought, considering how you get along with everyone here, then…”

“Nah, I’m not that good at making friends,” Dipper cut him off, in a sheepish tone. “Mom says I just need to be a bit more confident, but…”

Ford snorted. His own mother always said that he would have made more friends if he’d put in more effort, which was a lot of hogwash, in hindsight. As a penniless Jewish nerd with freak mutant hands, of course he hadn’t been exactly popular back in school. Ford was suddenly grateful that he’d been born a twin.

“She’s not wrong on that front,” Ford said. “You _can_ make friends, Mason, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. As I said, what about everyone you’ve befriended in Gravity Falls? What about me? Am I too old to be considered your friend? Or does family not count?”

Dipper laughed a little. “I know, I know! But still…”

“I think sometimes it’s just a matter of being in the right place at the right moment,” Ford added. “My college experience wasn’t exactly… _pleasant_ , but if I’d gone to another university, then I wouldn’t have met Fiddleford. You see what I mean?”

“Y-Yeah,” Dipper said. “Maybe… maybe I could start my _own_ club…”

“Why not?” As soon as the words left Ford’s mouth, he was seized with a strange feeling. It was hard to reconcile the man he’d been last summer—the man who had encouraged a twelve-year-old to _trust no one_ , not even his own family—with the person he was today. What a difference those last few months had made…

From the startled look on Dipper’s face, the boy had been struck with the same realization. “Yeah, why not? Who knows, there might be more fans of tabletop games at my school, right? Maybe even some people who are into paranormal stuff.”

“You won’t know until you ask,” said Ford. Again, he blinked, surprised by the platitudes he was spewing. Ford snorted, squeezing the boy's shoulder. “Whatever you choose to do, just know that I’m with you 110%.”

Dipper’s smile was a bit funny. “Since when do you sound so reasonable?”

“Since I’ve been stuck babysitting your uncle, I guess. One of us has to be the mature one, after all.”

Dipper snorted. “Yeah, _right_.”

Ford gave him a mock glare, and the boy chuckled in response.

“Thanks for listening, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said, eventually. “I only told that story to Mabel before. She reacted… well, you know her. You can imagine.”

“Oh?” Ford raised a brow.

Dipper smirked. “Yeah. She kinda made his life hell after that. Guy had a couple of glitter bombs exploding in his locker, among other things.”

Ford laughed. After a while, Dipper’s smile grew a bit sheepish.

“So, I guess you want to know why I told you all that, huh?” he asked Ford. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry if I messed up your game or something.”

“Mess up…” Ford’s eyebrows shot up. “ _You_ , mess up my game?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean, I get it that you’re annoyed. You must have worked so hard to prepare everything…”

And with those words the last bits of Ford’s annoyance melted away. “Oh, no. No, my boy, I’m not angry at you.” He thought about his nephew’s words for a while. “You thought I was annoyed because… you’re doing _well?_ ”

“Well, I just wanted to say that I get it,” Dipper clarified. “Being DM is _hard_.”

Ford ruffled the boy’s hair. “I knew what I was getting into when I first started the game. And if there is one thing I’ve learned since meeting you and your sister, it’s that I’ll always have something to learn. And that’s fine.”

Dipper mumbled something in response.

“What’s that?” Ford asked him.

“It’s just weird, hearing you say that. Realizing you can be unsure about something… just like _me_. In real life, I always try to plan for every bad thing that might happen. That way, I can be prepared, you know? Except it always goes off the rails anyway.” Again, he muttered something else Ford did not catch.

“What was that?”

Dipper removed his hat, scratching at his scalp. “You don’t get it, Great Uncle Ford. I’m the only one standing between these guys and a total TPK! Between our party and total annihilation!”

“Calm down, my boy. Don’t you trust in your sister and the others?”

Dipper raised a brow. “Yeah, _right_. Remember what happened this afternoon?”

Ford winced. They had found Mabel and Stan sitting in the living room and drinking soda through their noses, locked in an insane contest with no rhyme or reason. Soos and Wendy had been banging on the table to cheer them on.

“So, you were saying?” Dipper said dryly.

“Ah,” said Ford. “Fair point well made. But my argument still stands. It’s a _game_ , my boy. You don’t have to take it so seriously.”

“Yeah, I know,” the boy said. “It’s just the usual insecurities talking. And I guess there’s a life lesson in there, isn’t it? You might try to prepare for everything, but life’s life. It won’t always go the way you want it to go.”

Ford nodded. “Especially if you deal with particularly potent elements of chaos.”

“You can say that again,” Dipper said, smirking. “Shouldn’t we get back to the game? Said elements of chaos must be getting tired of waiting.”

“Lead the way, Mason,” Ford said, getting up and motioning to the door. His conversation with his nephew had cleared his mind, somehow, and dozens of new ideas buzzed around in his brain.

In the end, the party attacked the duplicitous chancellor, only for him to make a dastardly escape with the yellow gemstone. The commotion brought the attention of several royal guardsmen, who then brought the party before the king for an audience. Dipper’s character was all too happy to expose the truth of the matter in minute details.

“’Then,’” Ford had said, in the deepest, most regal voice he could muster, “’you must gather these gems before the agents of the Dark Lord can find them. Go, brave adventurers, and know that you act with the blessing of the king!’”

Ford then met Dipper’s eyes from across the table. The boy gave him two thumbs’ up. Ford could not hide a smile; he suddenly felt very privileged to have the counsel and trust of this bright, creative young soul.

* * *

The following week, Ford took his nephew aside before the game began.

“What it is, Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper asked, glancing at the living room, where his fellow players were already assembled around the table. “Did you have something to tell me?”

“Ah, well,” Ford said. “I only wanted to give you something.” He handed a piece of paper over to his nephew. “I tried to follow your instructions as much as I could. Is it to your liking?”

Dipper’s eyes widened at the sight of the drawing. “Wait, is that… my wizard?”

“Yes. You seemed to like it when I drew the different monsters and people you meet along your journey.” 

Dipper opened and closed his mouth in short succession. “It’s… it’s perfect. You included everything, all the dumb little details… the notch on his hat, that scar on his chin, his dragonskin pouch...”

“Of course I did. You’ve described your character quite well.”

“Grunkle Ford, you don’t get it! That… that looks like it was made by a professional! People would pay _money_ for that kind of stuff!”

Ford frowned. He was still at a loss as to why the boy was reacting in such an exaggerated manner. “I’m… glad you enjoy it?”

“Can… can I post it online? I’ll credit you, of course, it’s just… I follow a few groups about tabletop games, and all the guys there would be so _jealous_.”

“Why would I have any problem with that?” Ford said, still a bit bemused.

Dipper grinned from ear to ear. He threw furtive glances around, as if to make sure no one was watching, then reached to hug Ford.

“Thanks, Grunkle Ford!” the boy said, voice slightly muffled. “You’re the best!”

Ford patted his hat-covered head with a chuckle. “Anytime, my boy. Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's another dumb D&D story for you people. My ranger is BFF with my friend's druid (they lived together for a while), and they both tend to be distrustful of other people (my ranger is antisocial to the extreme and my friend's druid is super anxious and paranoid, poor soul). My friend's character grew convinced to a worrying degree that a NPC, a nice old librarian named Augustus, was really part of the evil cabal of wizards we were hunting—for absolutely no reason, of course. Our party then fought three NPCs named after months of the calendar—Janus, June and July. I caught my friend's eyes over the table and immediately we went, 'Augustus is evil! Vindication!!!' Our poor DM just looked at us with a face that said 'are you effing kidding me...?'
> 
> (If you have more stories to share, feel free! I love stupid D&D stories!)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This dumb little story wouldn’t exist if not for my rad irl D&D party (and by that, I mean, this is filled with as many dumb inside jokes a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶h̶a̶m̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶l̶y̶ ̶s̶t̶o̶l̶e̶n̶ ̶s̶t̶o̶r̶y̶ ̶b̶e̶a̶t̶s̶ as possible). So, yeah, DanPanic, LeGirard, Judas, Minienienie, Senech and his lady Gigi Ge… love you dorks.


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